


Drop-off Silph Co.

by xxELF21xx



Series: Scaling the Peak [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: (i try to describe it anyway), Alternate Universe, Angst, Chases, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Red, Parkour, Selectively Mute Red (Pokemon), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: In which Champion Red is constantly awed by a persistent journalist going by the name of Green Oak.
Relationships: Hibiki | Ethan & Ookido Green | Blue Oak, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ookido Green | Blue Oak & Red, Ookido Green | Blue Oak/Red
Series: Scaling the Peak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797232
Comments: 37
Kudos: 134





	1. Work Attire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mieudiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mieudiary/gifts).



> i had to look up the differences between a journalist and a reporter for this fic.

‘There he is!’ Red tenses up, adjusting his cap slightly. ‘Champion Red, may we have a wor- ‘ He takes off, trying to lose the hounds by rushing into the downtown bazaar, avoiding collisions with unnatural ease. 

The distinct lack of Pikachu on his shoulder both unsettles and calms him. The swarm draws ever closer, although smaller in size now, shouting question after question; he continues running, bleeding into the bazaar’s crowds. He melts perfectly, the attention on him immediately hitting rock bottom as he rounds a corner, side-stepping puddles and ratatas. 

Only fools would believe the chase was over. 

And clearly, Red got ahead of himself. 

Just as he steps into the darkness of downtown Viridian, the beating staccato of his heart cresting into a slower tune, the jingling of a lanyard snaps him back into overdrive. 

Abruptly, he swerves into a dead-end, building up enough momentum to jump off the wall and land nicely on a roof. Behind him, he hears the reporter curse a rather polite  _ fuck you!  _ and the sound of rustling clothes. 

Checking over his shoulder, both to gauge if he’s lost his stalker and to see what they were doing, his first thought is:  _ oh, those are some nice shoulders  _ and then,  _ wait, wha-  _

Because the reporter, in all his stuffy-suited glory, throws off a rather expensive looking blazer into a muddy floor -- drawing out a wince from him -- and  _ does the exact same thing Red did,  _ **_but better._ **

Almost flawlessly, the reporter flips off the wall, using a hand to guide his movements up onto the roof. Without as much as a pant, he  _ chases,  _ ruthlessly shortening the distance between them with powerful strides. 

Picking up his own pace, Red clambers up onto a flight of safety stairs, forgoing silence for speed, hoping and praying to Arceus that the reporter would just  _ give it up already.  _ Compared to the soft thuds of Red’s sneakers, the reporter’s dress shoes clatter noisily up the building, its resounding  _ thunk-thunk-thunk  _ driving spears into him. 

_ What even is this.  _ Blood roars in his ears, muting the joy of the streets and the crows of pokemon.  _ How can anyone even run in that attire for so long. What the fuck.  _

Finally, he reaches the very top, the whole bazaar mapped out messily below him. The closest way to send out Charizard -- and thereby gaining freedom and being blessedly  _ unbothered  _ \-- was just a few more steps forward. Red’s fingers ghost over Charizard’s ball, eyes on the finish line. 

Chancing another look back -- he’s most certainly impressed  _ and  _ intrigued by this reporter. Nobody’s ever managed to chase him for this long before -- he realises that the reporter is a hair’s breadth away from cinching onto his shirt. 

He’s also given a front-row seat to a show; his pursuer tugging off and casting away his tie in one smooth motion, popping open a shirt button in the process. 

_ I thought that only happens in movies.  _ The other man certainly had the  _ looks  _ of a model, or a superstar. Or one of those Contest Stars, or whatever they’re called. 

The reporter leaps, fingers outstretched, but Red is faster. Charizard bursts into view instantly, already flying off. With the bond that they have, he trusts the pokemon to catch him as he jumps off the building, landing comfortably on Charizard and finally,  _ finally  _ breaking free of the pesky gossip. 

Red’s heart is beating wildly, and he’s reduced to a heaving mess. It’s as though he’s out of shape. He wonders if the reporter had bloody blisters on his feet, and feels rather sorry about it. 

Mom didn’t raise a bully. 

Shifting so he doesn’t fall off Charizard, he turns around and signs  _ I’m sorry,  _ a heated glare his only reply-- 

Except it’s not. Because the reporter signs back:  _ I’ll catch you next time.  _

It sounded an awful lot like a promise. 


	2. Gold

To say Red liked formal events was an absolute lie so bold that the ground probably trembled with every syllable. 

He hated every second of it. Stiff clothes, droning background noises, clinking cutleries and clicking shoes. He can’t tell who’s genuinely trying to strike up a conversation and who’s trying to get into his good books for a reputation boost. It’s a battle he can’t quite understand nor win. The clock ticks continue, he wants to ditch.

He’s ditched plenty of galas before, but this was a fundraiser. For observatories across the region struggling with the sudden influx of abandoned pokemon. An acrid taste hits the back of his throat as he takes a sip of water; the seeds of summer had always meant that a lot of trainers -- all aspiring, young, and incredibly headstrong -- had dropped out of their journeys. And while pokemon are well-loved as both fighters and companions, not every family is equipped to handle a full team of six. In plenty of cases, young trainers catch more than six.

The result? Giving them away to observatories or labs. 

Releasing pokemon back into the wild was always deemed “troublesome”. He could never understand why. Was it the goodbye? Pride getting in the way of admitting that trainers could never finish their journeys? 

Red bets that shoving pokemon into other people’s arms, and hence shucking off all corresponding responsibilities, was easier. 

Still, standing like a pillar with unseeing eyes in the middle of a ballroom was no fun at all. Throwing money at growing problems was not going to fix anything. He stares into his glass, knowing full well that _he_ was the primary cause.

Who _doesn’t_ want to be like him, he thinks, disgust swirling at his feet, taking down an organised crime group _and_ being Kanto’s Champion at age 11? 

‘You look like you’re having fun.’ It’s a voice he couldn’t quite place. Looking up, he sees (who he assumes is) Gold, Johto’s Champion. Eyes drifting down, he cringes at the expensive suit the man is forced into as well. 

Gold waves a hand at Red, as if to say _yea, same._ ‘Never thought I’d actually get to meet you in person again,’ the man continues, posture loose. 

The only time they’ve ever met was on Mt. Silver, when they were both still young and had too much on their shoulders. It was also the first time Red ever lost, and the resulting relief and vacuum had caused him to crash back down to civilisation. 

Awkwardly, he gestures back at the riches around them. Gold nods back sagely, fiddling with his tie. ‘Yea, I get that. This happens every year, and nobody seems to know how to stop it.’ Then, quietly, ‘do you think we should do something?’ 

The _we_ didn’t just include Red and Gold. A lot of other regional Champions were children when they got the crown. But it seemed only Kanto and Johto had such a problem. 

‘Man, if _Green_ was with us, he’d probably smack us upside the head for burdening ourselves with this again.’ Gold groans, mussing up his slicked-back hair. He intends to sign _you look better like this,_ but gets sidetracked by the new name. 

_Green?_ He signs instead. _Who?_

He never gets an answer, as they both get swept away by a crowd of sharp-eyed businessmen. 

They barely make it out alive, with Silver swooping in to save them in the end. 

The redhead didn’t look too pleased to be here either, judging from his ever frowning face and prickly glare. Red has never actually talked to Silver, only knowing him as Viridian Gym’s Leader and was the “heir” to the Rocket empire. But he seemed to be on good terms with Gold, who’s chattering wildly about cross-breeding pokemon and its outcomes. 

Red hangs behind them, searching for Lance. If he could find Lance, he could find Agatha, who’d let him leave without much fuss. Soon enough, he spots her but ends up getting tugged away by Gold. 

Ah. He’d almost knocked into-

‘Green! I didn’t know you were coming!’ Gold’s suit is destroyed by clinging onto the _s_ _ame reporter that chased him through the bazaar a few days ago._

He shrinks into himself, watching Gold talk animatedly about confidential League issues like its the weather, Silver piping up every so often with his own opinions. The three of them look very at ease with each other. 

The man’s name is Green. 

That’s… nice to know. 

Red has to admit, Green fits right in with the ambience. Again, he’s dressed in a suit; navy blue blazer and slacks, paired with a thin red tie. There’s an odd brooch pinned on his blazer as well, a stylized bird with a… _keystone_ for an eye. And again, Green’s looks certainly could land him several front covers on magazines, especially when he’s not running about chasing Red. 

_Sorry,_ he signs in lieu of a hello when their eyes meet, because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do to the man who almost fell off a roof getting to him. 

Green, for the most part, didn’t seem angry or bothered. ‘Sorry to you, too.’ _That’s a nice voice._ ‘But I meant what I said: I _will_ catch you next time.’ 

He raises an eyebrow. _Why next time? What about now?_

‘Nah, this doesn’t count. Besides, I’m here to cover something else.’ 

Gold gives them both an inquisitive look, still hanging off of Green’s shoulder. Red ignores him favour of continuing the conversation with Green, who looked rather amused by the whole situation.

 _What are you supposed to be covering?_ He sees the light dim slightly from Green’s eyes, shimmering emeralds into fading ambers. Oh, he must’ve stepped on a landmine. 

Copying Gold’s initial move, Green waves his hand at Red’s suit and the area surrounding them. ‘Primarily, how much money will be raised for labs and observatories from tonight’s gala. Secondarily, the growing issue of Kanto and Johto’s young trainers.’ He shifts his gaze to Gold, slender fingers curling up to keep the younger Champion standing. 

‘And before this doofus says anything crushing about himself; _no,_ it’s neither of your faults. If anything, it’s the League’s fault for using your success stories and age to boost their own funding.’ 

Something dark lingers in those words, a black hole opening up beneath Red’s feet. 

Patting Gold on the head -- which earns him a sharp bark, and then Silver slapping a hand over Gold’s mouth -- he bids them a farewell. ‘It was nice meeting you tonight, Champion Red. I do hope that I can interview you someday.’ The politeness completely washes away when he talks to Gold, chiding him for getting his suit wrinkled and grooming his hair into something less of a mess. Green's expression could only be described as _fond._

‘See you at home!’ Gold chirps, continuing his analysis with Silver and Red. 

Whatever Gold is saying falls away, a heavy question set in his mind. 

Just who _exactly_ is Green?


	3. Oak -- Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for the positive response!

_ You should meet him,  _ Mom had said over the phone.  _ He’s a charming young man, Professor Oak’s grandson. He’s been such a great help this past week! Come around and help me say thank you, okay?  _ Mom is always trying to get him to befriend people in town, ever since he was young. 

He appreciates her intentions, but hates the forced conversation and politeness. 

Hatred strikes him deeper after he became Champion,  _ everyone  _ wanted to be his friend. The sinking realisation that people were, at their core, greedy and competitive, scared of those stronger than them, had driven a wedge between him and everyone else. When he was still a nobody in Pallet Town, the only person he’d call a friend was Leaf. When he suddenly became a somebody, all of Pallet rose up and dusted their shoulders as if they’d watched him grow with love and affection he'd never received before. 

Maybe it was the striking fear of  _ people  _ that drove him up Mt. Silver. Maybe it was the want to be  _ stronger, _ the  _ greed  _ to be at the top. Maybe it was a concentrated mix of both; because at the end of the day, he’s still a human like everyone else.

Every cell in his body screams as he replies,  _ Okay.  _

Because at the end of the day, he’s still human and very much afraid of those stronger than him. 

Patting Charizard lovingly, he pockets his phone and whistles for  _ home.  _ Even though home hasn’t been anywhere for a long time. The gentle giant lifts off, soaring through the clouds until Victory Road becomes nothing but a speck against the ground, its people smaller but still powerful. 

He takes a deep breath, clears his head until it’s blissfully blank of turmoil, and sets his gaze for home. 

The rolling greens that surround Pallet traps him into a false sense of security. Pallet has since grown, paved roads and walkways saving his shoes any dirt. Houses painted bright hues, no longer chipping. It was no longer sleepy, having been rejuvenated into something he no longer recognised. 

It looked strikingly like the suburbs of Viridian City.

It unsettles him, slightly. 

_ At least the buildings aren’t that tall.  _ He slides off Charizard at the entrance of the forest, not wanting to draw attention by riding all the way back home; Charizard quietly returns back into his ball. Adjusting his cap, he lets the crunching beneath his feet fall silent too, not used to the street lights standing where fences used to sit. 

The stoic lady that ran the minimart gives him a nod as they cross paths, eyeing him with a certain disdain he’s used to. He nods back, willing himself to not dash off instantly. Keeping his head low, he continues his way back, eyes glued to the floor. 

A coo causes him to stumble; and he’s no longer Champion Red of Kanto, just a boy from Pallet Town looking into a pidgeot’s eyes. Mom does  _ not  _ have a Pidgeot, she would tell him if she’d somehow caught one. 

Sharp eyes predatorily stare at him, daring him to inch closer. And because he’s really a fool, he does. 

He hardly has the time to duck as pidgeot fires a whirlwind, but the blow never hits. Peeking out from beneath his cap, he spots someone who certainly is  _ not  _ his mother. Anxiety nearly swallows him as he thinks,  _ she’s dating someone??  _ but it’s irrational, because the person in front of him, who nearly gets his arm pecked off by an agitated pidgeot, is Green. 

‘Whoa, hey!’ Green admonishes, smoothing out pidgeot’s tail feathers with practised ease --  _ oh, he’s its trainer  _ \-- ‘where’d that come from, hm? You usually don’t go about attacking people.’ Pidgeot gives a strangled coo, as if embarrassed, and ducks its head to nuzzle against Green’s already unruly hair. Green’s laugh does sound very nice, carefree and loud. 

Fidgety, he plays with his cap a bit more before sidestepping Green entirely and rushing through the door, Pikachu bursting out from his ball with his fur raised, hissing at the apparent intruder. He clicks his tongue once, Pikachu leaping onto his shoulders and forgetting all about the other man, trudging deeper into the house. 

Mom’s sitting in the living room. She jumps as he nearly crashes in, face falling when his eyes meet hers. ‘Oh, Red,’ she sounds somewhat relieved, ‘I should’ve gotten the door, shouldn’t I?’ 

He cringes, grimacing a reassurance. Looking back to the door, a hollow pit eats at him. It won’t be the first time a reporter’s come to bother Mom about him. It’s happened, again and again, almost weekly he’d hear Leaf mention someone had come to bother them about him. Usually, Leaf would be enough to chase them away -- nobody wants to upset a League spokesperson, especially when someone as strong as she. But Leaf wasn’t here now, she’s in Hoenn, representing him in a meeting.

‘What,  _ Green?’  _ Mom’s tone slams shut any type of question about reporters. She sighs again, which makes him horribly guilty, the same  _ oh, dear  _ sigh she does when he stammers at strangers. He blinks at her, unsure why he should be feeling guilty about the presence of a reporter. 

‘Miss Masami?’ Green’s head pops through the door, ‘sorry to cut the visit short! Gramps needs me to- ‘ Emerald eyes stop short at Red, recognition barely twinkling. Almost faltering, the man gives him an awkward sort of smile, ‘hey, Champion Red, it’s nice to see you. I’ll let you guys catch up; Arcanine will stop by later with the stuff you wanted, Miss Masami!’ With a casual wave, he’s gone. 

_ He’s Professor Oak’s grandson,  _ he concludes. Mom gives him an unimpressed, fond look, ‘yes, he is.’ 

And,  _ now  _ he feels guilty. 

Wait.  _ Green  _ is Professor Oak’s  _ grandson?!  _

‘Oh, Red,’ Mom shakes her head, guiding him to a seat as he counts the numbers and searches the depths of his memories for a boy trailing behind lab coats. He finds none.  _ Was he around when we were kids?  _ Because he  _ swore  _ he could remember an enigmatic child chattering his ears off about pokemon. Judging by Mom’s expression, Red must’ve been dreaming about another wisp of childhood he envied to have. 

But… he was  _ sure  _ he’s met a boy his age, with a bright voice and an even brighter life, before. 

True enough, an arcanine does end up dropping a package at their door later that day. Mom is delighted, hauling bags of pokemon food like they were made of air, whistling for Red’s pokemon out in the backyard. 

Like the gluttons they are -- and he’s to be blamed for that -- they scamper into a neat line, putting on their most darling smiles and watching as Mom gives them a bit too much for dinner. Red would say something, but he’s just as guilty, and decisively keeps his mouth shut when his own dinner bowl is crammed full of food. 

So, maybe he is a bit of a glutton as well. Mom’s food makes it impossible to not ask for more. 

‘After dinner, could you run a delivery for me?’ Mom’s chopsticks hover slightly above the last bit of greens, picking them up and moving towards his bowl. He nods, pushing his own chopsticks against her’s, and she lets him deposit them into her bowl. She beams, ruffling his hair with her spare hand, ‘could you give this to Green? Poor boy is running himself ragged helping Professor Oak with some lab work.’ He spies a bento, three layers high, and wonders if Green could eat all that alone. 

Nodding once more, he stuffs an eggroll into his mouth and chews slowly, letting her talk about Green, and Leaf. But it’s mostly Green, because Leaf hasn’t had the time to call either of them and complain about shitty League people and how Steven Stone won’t stop texting someone in the middle of his presentations. He learns quite a bit that night, none of it useful enough to hold a conversation -- Green’s working for the  _ Viridian Horizon,  _ is the same age as Red, has a sister named Daisy (who he  _ thinks  _ he’s acquainted with), and is apparently really good at fixing broken electronics. He’s also single, Mom adds as an afterthought, bursting out laughing when he drops a piece of braised meat onto the table. 

‘I swear, those Oaks don’t eat enough,’ she grumbles, the first sign of a complaint he’s heard in a while. ‘Look at them! Did you know, when we first moved in, I thought their house was abandoned! No lights at night, no sign of life at all! Wasn’t until your dad came home with an injured nidoqueen that we knew them.’ All of this roughly translates to:  _ I’m worried about them, not because they’re our neighbours, but because they’re my friends. They’re also stupid workaholics. _ He nods along, not really knowing what to say about Professor Oak. 

Mom might hold a grudge against the Professor, he did give Red his first pokemon, which helped him become Champion. Helped take him away from her. 

He hears Pikachu and Lapras playing, and has half a mind to tell them not to flood the backyard, but ultimately decides that they deserved a break and lets them go wild. Mom fixes him another look that hastens his footsteps -- he’s lazy, and procrastinates too much, she says. As is Leaf doesn’t do the same -- and he’s out the door with Green’s bento. 

He has to do the dishes later, or else he won’t get any cake. With a renewed vigor, he sets out to the Oak residence, trying his best to remember the child he may have known. 

Was it Daisy? He doesn’t think so, he’s never hung out with her long enough to get an impression of her. The other children didn’t like him either, calling him names for sticking to himself and shunning him away when he tried. 

The walk to Oak’s was a lot longer than he remembered. 

He doesn’t have to knock on the door when he gets there, Green is getting ready to fly off on his pidgeot (who still glares at him like he’s prey). Unblinking, he holds out the bento box. 

Green stares at it, puzzled. ‘What’s this for?’ 

_ Dinner.  _ He signs, watching as Green’s face crumples a little more in abstract grief. What was that supposed to mean? 

‘Oh.’ Green’s voice is hoarse, sounding like the beginnings of a flu. ‘Sorry, but, I gotta head back to Viridian City right now; the Hoenn Conference just ended and they need someone to draft up an article summary for tomorrow’s cover story.’ 

Red doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean either -- other than  _ Leaf will call in ten minutes  _ \-- but he doesn’t like the sound of it either. He must have made a face, because the other man cracks a smile. 

‘I’m really sorry about it,’ he even sounds embarrassed, eyes darting to pidgeot and back to him. ‘Uhm, I can pass it to Gramps? Or maybe Daisy, I don’t really have the time to- ‘ Red pops open the lid, chopsticks threateningly hanging over rice. Green cracks. 

With a dramatic sigh, he takes the bento and chopsticks and places it in a bag. Red raises an eyebrow. ‘Hey, I’ll eat when I get back, okay? If I don’t set out soon, my phone bill will go underwater.’ Giving a peaceful smile, he adds, ‘thank Miss Masami for me; sorry I had to trouble her for something like this.’

_ Something like this.  _ It shouldn’t sound as bitter and defeated as it does. He nods jerkily, feeling as though he’s stepped on a landmine. 

As mentioned, Green’s phone chimes. Groaning, he picks it up, waving a hand to say bye whilst climbing atop pidgeot, arguing with (presumably) Gold. The phone call goes on for another five minutes, devolving into a series of sounds that aren’t human. Red doesn’t know if he’s supposed to leave. Soon enough, the phone gets tossed into the bottom of a bag, pidgeot flapping its wings gracefully. 

‘Hey, Champion Red!’ Green shouts, bright and full of life against the dark Pallet silence, ‘I  _ will  _ catch up to you next time! Remember that!’ 

Red can’t move, pinned to the spot by a feral grin and burning amber eyes.

He  _ swore  _ he knew a child like that, once.


	4. Oak -- Part II

Everyone always said he and Leaf were identical in every way possible. They had the same bored face, same grim lines in their expressions and hardly looked at anyone. They stood the same, blinked the same, they were essentially the same person split in two. 

Red calls it bullshit.

Leaf is impossibly  _ noisy,  _ talking a mile a minute, as if she’d die if she stopped talking for a moment. It’s called ranting to others, but that's just how Leaf is. Energetic, compulsive, and chatty -- the total opposite of him. 

He lays in bed, phone on speaker, humming between her sentences as she cusses out “idiotic Leaguers and their stupid mouths and dumb, leather chairs” and runs circles around the fact that nobody in the League really cared about the influx of brash trainers. ‘As long as there are trainers, these rotting brains get money! Can you believe the  _ nerve  _ of these fuckers?!’ He cringes at her language, trying to find cover from her harsh truths and cower behind Pikachu. She continues bowling on, as if sensing his discomfort and deciding to rub it raw.

Pikachu zaps him, turning his head away in a grand gesture of  _ I don’t care,  _ and scampers off to rest with Espeon. 

‘And the  _ audacity  _ of Steven  _ fucking  _ Stone! He keeps  _ texting  _ someone with the dumbest, broadest  _ grin  _ on his face like he’s won some jackpot or discovered a new shiny rock!’ He tells her that she seems very interested in Steven, and gets shouted at for the next five minutes. He backtracks and tells her that she’s jealous of Steven, to which a dry  _ you don’t say?  _ is thrown at him. 

‘I wish  _ I  _ could be texting and smiling like a dork in that pressurising room.’ 

His teasing smile drops, shoulders suddenly aching. Leaf gasps, softly apologising. 

‘You won’t be in that room if… ‘ His voice drops off, and he wishes he had the courage to do everything that was expected of him. Leaf calls him a tyrant for wanting to do everything by his lonesome, but it doesn’t shake the overbearing uselessness embedded deep into his bones. ‘When are you coming back?’ He asks instead, craving nothing more than for them to be six again, playing at the edges of Viridian Forest without a care in the world. 

‘Monday, probably. If something else crops up, Wednesday.’ A question forms in his head,  _ what else could happen?  _ But he doesn’t ask, letting her talk about what else happened in Hoenn; like Wallace being uncharacteristically quiet, Valarie dragging Rosa and Hilda around for some sightseeing, Serena seemingly having a  _ very  _ heated phone call with someone. Endless background chattering. 

She’s a lot calmer now, no longer a volcano. ‘Hey, have you heard?’ There’s some shuffling on her end, papers crinkling and files snapping open. ‘Apparently, nobody else outside of Kanto and Johto knew that Silver was the Viridian Gym Leader. How wild is that? When I asked who they  _ thought  _ the Gym Leader was, they said it was  _ Green!’  _

Green… Like the reporter? Green Oak? 

Leaf flops back down on her bed, laughing. ‘Could you believe it? Green Oak, Viridian Gym Leader? There’s no way! He couldn’t even tell the difference between Gust and Air Slash! Nobody seemed to take me seriously, though. They said something about him strong enough to be part of the Elite Four? But he’s the same age as us, we would know if he took on the Gym Challenges too!’ 

He doesn’t focus on any of those words more than he necessarily should, dumbfounded that Leaf even knew Green to begin with. What’s up with that?

‘How’d I know Green? The dork works really closely with the League for a lot of his articles -- which, by the way, blows all other reporters out the park. They’re seriously amazing and scary. He’s picked through his fair share of muddy water, but it’s scary how easily he’s able to sniff shit out.’ Odd admiration is what she has for Green, he thinks. ‘He swings by once in a while to get official statements and stuff from our Elite Four, and bakes a mean cheesecake. He won’t give me the recipe though, asshole.’

_ You’ve never told me about him,  _ he kicks at his blankets, Espeon sending him an unflattering glare. Leaf was free to be with whoever she wanted, but he’d thought she would talk about Green more. Or maybe she did, and he didn’t listen. 

‘Did you know he’s the Professor’s grandson?’ The line goes silent, leading him to think that maybe his battery had run out, but he’d just charged his phone and Leaf was still on the line. ‘Leaf?’ He sits upright, worried. She was never quiet. 

‘Huh.’ She says, as if she’s found Nirvana. 'That… explains a lot.’

‘No. It doesn’t.’ He tells her, face flat. 

He goes over to the lab the next morning, packed breakfast shoved into his arms. 

‘Word got out that Green fainted last night! What was that boy doing?’ Mom’s voice is frantic even as she dusts the TV carefreely. ‘I made too much for breakfast, help me pass it along to Daisy and the Professor, would you? There’s some congee for Green as well.’ He sees the frown on her face, the same grim lines he’s inherited grace her features unflatteringly. Without so much as a word of good morning, he picks up the bag and sets off, Pikachu on his shoulder.

Daisy answers the door, swaying unsteadily on her feet. ‘Oh!’ She looks back further into the house, ‘hello, Red. It’s been a long time since I last saw you. I hope you’re doing well.’ She’s always been nice, but they’ve never interacted much beyond a wave or a quick hello. ‘Are you looking for Gramps? He’s- ‘ 

He cuts her off, awkwardly presenting her with the bag of food. With the same expression Green wore last night -- he hopes he’s okay -- Daisy takes it and looks at him for an explanation.  _ Mom made too much breakfast. There’s also some congee for Green.  _ He stumbles on Green’s name, though he’s not very sure why. He wished he brought his hat along, Pikachu was too busy snoozing on his shoulder to be held in his arms right now. 

She smiles, understanding, ‘thank Miss Masami for us, really! With everything that happened last night,’ her expression wilts slightly, concern bleeding into her tone, ‘I wasn’t really keen on helping around the house.’ Gesturing for him to come in -- he really just wants to go home and help Mom tend to the garden -- she walks further in, ‘Green really likes Miss Masami’s cooking, the little demon has been bothering her ever since he came back last week. We’re really sorry about it.’ 

He shakes his head, careful not to startle Pikachu.  _ He’s been keeping Mom company, I think she likes him more than me.  _ He tries not to come off as childish, but Daisy sees through it anyway, giggling. 

‘Green’s charming like that, don’t worry!’ Daisy flashes a grin, setting the bag on the dining table. ‘But he really is a troublesome boy; ever since he was a baby, everywhere he went, an event is bound to happen.’ He helps her take out the dishes while she grabs bowls, spotting a few pokemon napping in a pile and nudges Pikachu to join them. He chirps, happily jumping into the pile. 

An eevee rises out from the pile, growling. Daisy’s voice rings from the kitchen, ‘I don’t suggest going near those pokemon! Poor things are worried sick about Green, they’ll quite literally bite your arm off if you go near them now.’ Immediately, he scoops Pikachu up, soothing his sad squeaks.  _ Next time,  _ he promises,  _ when they’re friendlier.  _ He’s sure there won’t be a next time, though. 

The eevee pads over to Daisy, pawing at her feet with some urgency. She bends down, scratching its head gently, ‘we’ll see him soon, just need to get him some food.’ She doesn’t ask if eevee is hungry; Red doubts it is, knowing how stricken pokemon can get if its trainer or their family are affected. Which begs the question -- who is its trainer? Were these pokemon from the observatory? 

He’s lost in thought for too long, Daisy asking if everything’s alright, carrying a large tray with breakfast (and a big packet of medicine).  _ I can help,  _ he offers, but gets rejected because it’s absurd for guests to do anything “strenuous”, so his arms are limp by his side as he follows her through the Oak residence, passing by family photo after family photo. Green is never present in any of them. 

_ Where’s Green?  _ He wants to ask, but his voice is stuck and Daisy can’t see him. 

It’s a mistake following her instead of going back immediately after delivering breakfast. He hears muffled shouting, aggressions high in each voice. Should he be here? He has half a mind to slink off quietly, but there’s no way Daisy could knock the bedroom door and eevee looked deadly. 

This isn’t something he should step into, he thinks, watching Daisy’s face crumble as she glances at him. He takes the tray from her, stepping back a little, to save her some grace and embarrassment. She knocks, loudly declaring that Mom got breakfast for them, and the argument stops short. 

With a sigh, she cracks open the door, eevee dashing right through and jumping up onto the bed. Professor Oak has seen better days, his usually friendly smile replaced with a furious frown. Green… didn’t look all that good either, a laptop’s glow casting him sickly. 

‘You’re not supposed to be  _ working  _ right now, Green.’ Daisy stresses, taking the tray from him as the Professor snatches the laptop out of grasp. Green  _ whines,  _ petulant, ‘I need to finish that article for tomorrow. Gramps,’ he pleads, sounding exhausted, ‘please.’ 

Red looks on, a foot out the door. He should have left earlier.

‘You worked yourself to the bone the whole time you’ve been here. If Gold was at the Conference, we would never have known you’d passed out.’ Professor Oak’s tone hardened, not at all like the man who was always patient with him. ‘Green, you weren’t supposed to be working at all this week, you’re on  _ break.’  _ He says it with some sort of defeat, ‘they aren’t supposed to contact you at all.’ 

‘Well, that’s just how work is!’ Green snaps, fingers curled tightly in eevee’s fur. The pokemon whimpers, butting its head against his stomach. ‘They don’t have anyone else to cover the headlines, alright?! Lyra is still new to this whole thing, and I can’t just  _ dump  _ everything on her and let her drown! I’m not going to let anyone drown because I’m incompetent!’ 

‘That doesn’t mean  _ you  _ get to drown, either!’ Daisy slams the tray onto a table, ending the argument. ‘It’s either you work healthier, or you quit! Do you think we  _ like  _ seeing you like this, it’s not even the first time!’ In a calmer voice, she adds, ‘nobody’s calling you incompetent. If anything, you’re a little too competent. Lyra won’t grow if she’s in your shadow.’ 

Green looked ready to fight back, but Daisy shoves the congee into his hands and glowers. ‘Eat. Rest. The  _ Horizon  _ can wait.’ 

And the Professor, being the Professor, gets the last word. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened in the bazaar the other day. Gold was reasonably upset that you got yourself hospitalised, now think about how  _ we  _ felt- ‘

Red flees. 


	5. Reliance

He’s stuck in another meeting again, staring wide-eyed at part of a newspaper clipping.  _ How the Pokemon League is Crushing Dreams,  _ reads the headline -- it’s baity, eye-catching, but the report goes in-depth about how many of the young regional Champions’ success stories are used to lure impressionable children to set out on “dream journeys” where they too, could become young Champions. It goes on further to implicate Kanto and Johto’s Leagues, two of the most established and well-known -- the “true definition” of a Pokemon League -- and how Red and Gold’s status as the “youngest Champions” by chronological order has been exaggerated and celebrated far too much, amplifying the ideal Pokemon journey. 

As he continues reading, the need to throw up rises even higher, shoulders tensing and words blurring together. 

_ Many regions face a decline in persistent trainers, who are willing to endure the hardships and failures to get to the Elite Four, but not before the Trainer Boom hits.  _ Trainer Boom, a common phrase not given much thought.  _ There is a steady increase in the number of initial trainers who start their journeys at 11, accompanied by at least six or more pokemon in their party. However, more than 40% of them drop out of their journeys after encountering their first gym. In the last decade alone, there has not been a new Champion in neither Kanto nor Johto. Additionally, only Kanto and Johto faced a surge in abandoned pokemon, most of them left in laboratories, observatories and pokemon centres across both regions, while all the other regions have found sustainable ways to combat the problem. Take Sinnoh for instance...  _

Taking a breath, he skims through the rest of the report, getting more uncomfortable by the minute as the report goes on to detail statistics between League earnings, the annual fundraisers, and the need for more resources in labs and observatories. Red knows that the primary way the League profits is through official documents such as licenses and fees, but there are also partnerships and collaborations with brands, investments and sponsorships (which is how Galar’s League mainly profits). Events such as Battle Trees and Tournaments are other sources of income. But most of it is generated through  _ trainers.  _

‘Who would have thought that Green Oak would be the one to deliver these harsh truths,’ Koga shrugs, like it’s no big deal that one of the internet’s greatest conspiracies is now confirmed. Beside him, Karen and Will give little shrugs of indifference, as if they knew that it was going to happen one way or another. 

Gold sits at the other end of the table, alongside the Johto Elite Four, fingers drumming flatly against the tabletop. He looks unimpressed, and slightly angry, not at all like the usual happy-go-lucky Champion that people cooed about. ‘Would you rather Green expose the League, or someone else?’ Gold snaps, posture unchanged but words cutting deep. 

Lance looks away, weary and too tired. 

The table is silent, devoid of its usual banter and snack wrappers strewn around carelessly.  _ What are you going to do now?  _ He asks, barely noticing the stares as much as he notices the anger thrumming through his veins and keeping his nerves fire hot.  _ Keep throwing money at problems, like it’ll solve anything.  _

He glares at Lance, years of pent up emotions and emptiness evaporating as he catalogues the physical changes; older, wearier, and more reserved. Lance shouldn’t look like that, not when he was joking with Will just yesterday. 

‘We issue a statement. Make good that we  _ are  _ going to change.’ It’s Agatha who speaks up, always analytical and sharp. To this day, he’s still afraid she might look into his soul and uncover all of his insecurities and doubts, shake him off his feet. ‘This League has seen so much, but we cannot remain like this; the other regions have tapped into their young Champions to understand how their homes have changed, we cannot call ourselves the Ideal League if we are stuck in the old ways.’ Her cane taps against unscuffed marble floors, light to the ears but heavy to the heart. ‘I’ve seen this League grow larger than life ever since I was a young Trainer, when finances and Gyms were struggling to keep afloat. We are no longer in that position, we cannot deny that we’ve neglected the transition of time.’ 

She looks at him, weathered eyes looking through him -- it’s been nearly a decade and Red is beginning to realise that Agatha is the one person who he can’t lie to. ‘We have, in many ways, failed you and Gold.’ She says, like it’s the universal truth, like it’s law, with finality and defeat. 

There’s a touch more in her tone, an emotion he can’t place. But  _ Gold  _ does, and he snaps forward, hands roughly slamming into the table’s surface. 

‘Just  _ us?’  _ Gold spits, furious. ‘Who else? What about all the other aspiring trainers who gave up because they realised they couldn’t be  _ us?  _ What about trainers who’ve saved up every scrap and penny to get their documents, raise their teams and be absolutely  _ crushed  _ when they found out they weren’t  _ enough?  _ What about _ Gr-- ‘ _ He stops himself, heaving, and slumps forward, shoulders shaking. With a tearful sob, he stands up and runs out of the room, Karen running after him. 

The background  _ click-click-clicks  _ of Leaf’s noisy keyboard comes to an abrupt stop -- he’s forgotten about her already, unused to the tense atmosphere. She’s heaving a little too, already high on emotions. It’s then that he remembers: she dropped out of  _ her  _ journey for  _ him,  _ because Mom couldn’t support them both. 

He wonders if Leaf would’ve done a better job at addressing this issue, if she was Champion. 

It concludes without the usual fanfare, everyone files out solemnly, Leaf running through the final draft of the statement with him and Lance. Karen and Gold never came back, which leaves them all unsettled. 

The three of them shuffle through papers silently, he knows Lance is brooding but it’s difficult to read his guarded expression. After what felt like eternity, he hears a sigh. ‘Is Green alright?’ 

Leaf grunts, harshly signing papers. She pushes it to him, and he automatically pens his own name under hers. ‘Could be better; he didn’t seem that good the last time he came over. His cheesecake was shit.’ 

He sees Lance open his mouth, probably to scold her for her language, close it and roll his eyes. ‘You’re always judging his moods by the cakes he brings, Leaf.’ It was  _ strange  _ to hear them have a conversation he had no part in, even though he’s spent the most time with them. ‘How did the last one taste?’ 

‘Sour. He said he added a touch too many lemon peels, which does  _ nothing  _ to help me crack the recipe. He also said he’s gonna try making bread the next round.’ She toys with a pen, ‘I don’t think he’s going to be coming for a while.’ 

_ Oh,  _ he thinks. Because he wanted to get to know the man that’s somehow managed to befriend his prickly cousin, and maybe get to know the man behind the sharp dress shoes and predatory pidgeot.  _ Guess that won’t be possible.  _

Lance inquires more about Green, sounding rather devastated -- and what does  _ that  _ mean? -- but the conversation drops once Karen slides in, hair bundled up messily. Holding his breath, he awaits the news, but all she does is shake her head and places a finger on her lips. 

Frustration starts tipping over. He feels eleven and useless all over again, not understanding anything after months of pretending to stay on top of everything. He’s no longer eleven, but the void feels all the same regardless. 

Leaf moves quickly, shoving the papers into Lance’s arms, grabbing her hat and running through the doors. ‘Make copies for the Gym Leaders and hand them out!’ She yells, voice fading with thundering steps, ‘I’ll be taking the rest of the day off!’ Without thinking, he does the same, chasing after her like they were seven and reckless, passing by staff member after staff member with no end goal in mind. 

They make their way out of the building, the warm summer air suffocating. A pidgeot at the edge of the Indigo Plateau dias, feral eyes looking onwards. Gold is there too, right in the middle, face hidden in  _ Green’s  _ chest, shoulders still shaking. 

He’s intruding on something, frustration curling up within him yet again. He’s intruding and he  _ hates  _ that he can’t tear himself away from the scene. 

Green looks up, aviator jacket and unruly hair rustling with the wind. There’s an indescribable  _ hatred  _ in the lines of his face. He thinks he’s had enough, and slips away from Leaf to find refuge somewhere cool and isolated.

He doesn’t hear of Gold for days, too caught up in handling the mudslide of new duties. Nobody’s had the time to properly rest, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruno look so physically ill before. There’s been resentment brewing in the local people, most of them relatively civil. He doesn’t want to think about those that aren’t, not when a boy no older than six is crying in front of him. 

Red isn’t good with people, and he’s not good with crying children either. 

But he’s a role model nonetheless, so he swallows his dying nerves and discomfort and kneels in front of the child, trying to comfort him with head pats and tissues. His voice is stuck, and he doesn’t really know how else to help.  _ So much for being a role model.  _

He’s almost tempted to just kind of lift the child up and console him like he’s seen parents do when an eevee approaches and starts rubbing its face against the boy’s legs, as if asking for a scratch. 

Startled, the tears stop to give way to tiny giggles as the eevee attempts to play with him. Pikachu comes scampering over as well, a few berries in his mouth, dropping them in front of the boy. The three of them seem fine on their own, Red sighs in relief, sore from his lack of people-handling knowledge. 

A few minutes later, the boy runs off, and he’s left with a stray eevee. Shifting uncomfortably, he lets it rest in his lap. Pikachu glares at him, easily offended, which earns him a muffled laugh from someone standing behind him. 

‘I don’t recommend letting her rest there unless you wanna be on the floor for the whole day.’ It’s Green. ‘C’mon girl, be nice and let the poor guy stand.’ Eevee’s ears twitch, and she jumps off him for Green’s shoulders. 

_ He looks good  _ shouldn’t be the first thought in Red’s head, watching Green scratch his eevee’s cheeks and feeding her a treat.  _ His voice sounds a lot better  _ isn’t an appropriate thought either, but here he is, appreciating the soft tones. 

_ You’re not wearing a suit,  _ he signs, dumb, and gets a ticked eyebrow in return. Face burning, he hugs Pikachu. 

‘Nope,’ Green’s still easygoing, ‘was reassigned to another department. Got a lot more free will in movement and attire now.’ He doesn’t sound anything other than pleasant. ‘Gotta say, though, that report really has seen some fast changes.’ 

In fact, Green sounded  _ pleased.  _ Red is reminded of a sharpedo who’s finally landed its prey. 

_ What are you doing now?  _ He doesn’t necessarily want to watch the whole interaction turn into a smugfest, smirking when Green throws him an irritated glance.  _ What were you, anyway? You were everywhere. Leaf says you’re trying to make bread?  _

Emerald eyes widen slightly, coloured surprised. ‘Leaf? The League rep?’

_ Cousin.  _

‘Oh!’ Then, with furrowed brows, ‘yeah, I see the similarities. The both of you do act alike.’ With another smug smile, Green cheekily asks, ‘is she still asking for the cheesecake recipe? Good luck with that, it changes every visit.’ Red passes him an unimpressed stare, which gives a cackle. ‘Your  _ faces!’  _ He crows, gleeful,  _ ‘exactly  _ the same! You two give me too much power!’ 

With a rather flattering smile, Green tells him that he’ll bring a cheesecake along the next time they see each other.  _ How are you so sure we’ll see each other again?  _ Red scrutinises him, remembering Leaf’s words. Rolling his eyes -- a little like Lance, dramatic and fond -- Green waves a hand -- like Gold, carefree and teasing -- ‘because I’ve been assigned to cover you,  _ duh.’  _

Wait. 

He must’ve blanked out for a little too long, and by the time he’s come back to his senses, Green is curled up on the floor and drowning in laughter. He hears a hiccup, then two, then three; and now Green is a hiccuping, laughing mess on the grass patch.  _ Not funny,  _ he signs once the reporter has recovered. They stare at each other for a second, and Green is back on the floor once again. 

‘Just you wait,’ he wheezes, cheeks flushed, ‘I’m gonna get the best scoop out of you yet!’ 

_ Please, don’t.  _ He begs, his own face hurting from smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i had no idea where this chapter was gg but i guess the boys are happy???


	6. Banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i finally give red a personality

The world blurs around him, painting his vision in sparks of watercolour confusion. Belatedly, he mourns the loss of his ice cream cone, splattered on the ground somewhere after he’d dropped it in a rush to flee. The walls close around him, lush garden greens narrowing into a concrete jungle, giving him the edge he needs to lose his pursuer. 

Behind him, Green’s enraged yells scorch at his tail, and he’s once again reminded of how much he lacks in comparison to the reporter’s insane stamina.

He reaches a corner, mud tracking up his jeans, and wastes no time in jumping upward, scaling a quarter of a pipe in the time it takes for Green to call him playground insults. He cranes his neck back -- looking at the sights with water’s reflection -- and sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

_ ‘You little shit-- !’  _ He hears Green shuck off his blazer once more -- how many of those can the man ruin before someone gets concerned? Would Gold not complain about the dirt? -- and metal clanging on metal is heard somewhere below him. 

Again, exhilaration thrills in his veins, edging him higher and higher up the building, jumping ledges and flipping from towering walls. Green, as ever, loses no time in catching up; he manages to snag his shoelace briefly before Red leaps onto a subsidiary of Devon Corp., flashing a cheeky smile as suited workers gape. Green handles the stares a lot better, waving them off with two fingers and a name card slapped into the window. 

He doesn’t quite know what it’s for, but the people beyond the windows seemed rather amused, rolling their eyes with a smile. 

‘Come on, Champion Red!’ Green’s using  _ that  _ voice again, loud and annoying and sounding very much like a certain reporter from the  _ Kanto Times,  _ ‘just one question!’ Red shoves the middle finger rudely behind him, twisting himself to fall onto Charizard, who was waiting patiently below. 

Green laughs obnoxiously, camera dangling dangerously by the tip of his index finger, and-- 

And he _ falls _ backwards, eyes twinkling with growing mischief as Red’s stomach drops fifty metres to the floor. 

Subconsciously, Red reaches out, Charizard plummeting as fast as he could to match Red’s desperation. But there wasn’t a need, as just before Green’s body meets the brick ground with a sick splat, his Pidgeot bursts out of its ball and takes Green up sky high. The reporter’s cheers ring through the claustrophobic office space, Red’s own heart picking back up at the laughs. 

‘Got’cha there!’ A devilish grin slips in place of Green’s usual polite, inquisitive smile. His Pidgeot has an intense staredown with Charizard, who backs away slowly, tail beating nervously. 

_ You could have died!  _ Red’s hands are trembling and messy as he tries to get the message across, but Green waves him off -- so much like Gold -- ‘nah, it would take more than a fall to kill me.’ 

_ That was close to sixty metres!  _ He pulls his cap off, glaring. Green’s camera goes off, an unflattering picture captured.  _ And stop taking bad photos of me!  _

The constant chortles from the reporter serve to agitate him more, but he doesn’t do anything to stop the noise. 

‘Sixty is nothing~’ Green’s chin rests comfortably atop Pidgeot’s head, fingers carefully treading through ruffled feathers. ‘Pidgeot’ll always catch me, right?’ The bird coos, soft and nothing like the threatening predator it was to Red. Grinning, Green feeds it some treats, tossing a few to Charizard in hopes of bucking Red off. 

_ You’re evil.  _ He frowns, pointing to the camera.  _ No interview, no camera.  _

‘Wh-- ‘ Green sputters, hugging the offending thing tight,  _ ‘ex- _ cuse me, princess! This right here is my meals, my bills, my shoes and blazers! If I don’t deliver  _ something  _ about you every week, I could very well be jobless and sad. And if  _ I’m  _ sad,  _ Gold  _ will be upset; and if  _ he’s  _ upset, then who will entertain Johto’s challengers?’ There’s a childish whine in the tone of his voice, and Red snorts at the mention of Gold doing anything related to being a Champion. Lance is constantly on the brazen man’s tail, demanding that he’d  _ at least sign some papers!  _

‘Just you wait,’ he snaps out of his thoughts, ‘I’m gonna write a piece so fan-servicingly  _ great,  _ you’ll be  _ begging  _ me for an interview.’

Automatically, his hands form  _ don’t slander me.  _

‘Hey, no promises.’ 

_ ‘This right here is my meals, my bills, my shoes and blazers! If I don’t deliver  _ **_something_ ** _ about you every week, I could very well be jobless.’  _

That doesn’t sit right with him, and he finds himself extremely uncomfortable and guilty at the thought of someone losing their livelihoods over something as trivial as gossip. Tossing and turning in his bed, he ignores Pikachu’s warning stings and ponders upon the severity of those words, wondering if someone of Green’s class -- high up on the  _ VH  _ ladder, but lower than an exec, completely dismissable given a second glance -- could end up in a crisis over coffee coaster-type gossip rags. 

Pikachu seemed to have had enough of him, zapping him with a fraction of thunderbolt’s strength, glaring daggers at him. ‘Sorry,’ he whispers, allowing the furball to curl up and fall back to sleep once again. 

Cradling his partially paralysed arm -- and one would  _ think  _ that Pikachu would stop paralysing him -- he decides to call Leaf.

‘What? Green losing his job?’ Leaf’s exhaustion is replaced with amusement, the sounds of her slumbering pokemon crackling over the phone. ‘I mean, if you’re really  _ that  _ worried, you could just… send him food? Do his laundry? Give him the interview he needs? I dunno, one of those three, I guess.’ 

‘You’re a genius,’ he replies, feeling all too dumb. 

‘I know,’ she snorts, hiding her giggles. 

From: Veggies

_ Red, you didn’t ACTUALLY break into Green’s home right?? _

To: Veggies 

_ :3 _

From: Veggies

_ Good luck with that, then.  _

It’s another day of mourning ice cream cones as Green chases him down the streets once again, enraged for a completely different reason. 

He swallows nervously, ducking into an alleyway and hiding in its shadow, hoping and praying the hound in Green wouldn’t sniff him out. 

It works, and he hears the reporter stomp off with a huff. 

Is it really worth it, he asks, looking into his wallet devoid of eight dollars. He concludes, yes. 

‘I  _ know  _ you’re the one sending me shit!’ Green bellows, hot on his tail (again) after the end of a weekly meeting. Leaf bursts out in peals of laughter and Gold glowers at him, while the others look on in confusion. 

Green never manages to catch him, attention diverted to Johto’s Champion clinging onto him with a frown. 

The cycle doesn’t stop, and by -- as Green claims -- the “deadline”, the man still hadn’t lost his job and was enjoying a cup of cooling tea with him at a teahouse near Erika’s gym. 

A stack of bills lay in the middle of the ornate dark wood table, strong gaze pinned to him. With an almost silent sip, Green gestures, ‘Gold says you’re shit at choosing vegetables.’ Red shoots him a dirty glare, the fresh jasmine souring in his mouth. ‘It’s true, you’re always buying yellowed veggies. Not even  _ Silver  _ would them, and he eats mostly everything I put on the table.’ 

With an even sharper stare, and a final gulp of tea, Green tells him to stop buying groceries. ‘Because, frankly,’ in a polite voice, ‘you’re not suited for such an arduous task, Mr Champion, sir.’ 

_ At least your laundry seems fine? _ He smiles as charmingly as possible, taking it in stride when Green splashes dirty tea in his face with a threat of Pidgeot pecking him to death if he was caught breaking into the apartment again. _Your interior decor is pretty nice,_ he adds as an afterthought, narrowly missing the second throw of piping hot tea in his already pinking face.

'Just you wait,' Green swears, tossing a tea towel at him, 'you can't run forever.'

_ We'll see, _ he catches it with ease, smirking.

He forgets to ask how Gold is, after the fallout, swept up in the excitement of the near-daily chases and close calls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update:") took me quite a while to finally settle on how i'd like to pace stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> mieu, this one's for you.
> 
> hit me up on [Tumblr!](https://ankh-o.tumblr.com/)


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